


Ambush

by Laylah



Category: Naruto
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, F/M, Porn Battle, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-05
Updated: 2011-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-22 06:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sleeping with Anko is like surviving an ambush, sometimes literally, and he wouldn't have it any other way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ambush

**Author's Note:**

> Porn Battle prompts: bloodplay, scars, rough
> 
> Bingo kink: wrestling/grinding

In a hidden village, most people will say they don't mind a few scars. Even the civilians—they get used to seeing them, on friends or neighbors or family members who are shinobi and carry souvenirs of missions that aren't ever going to fade. Ibiki has more than a few, though, enough to push the edges of most people's "don't mind" threshold.

But fuck 'em, who needs most people? Who even _wants_ most people, when there's Mitarashi Anko?

She doesn't fit the model image of a kunoichi—there's nothing about her that's demure or discreet or pretty. Good-looking, sure, but not _pretty_. It's something more rough-and-tumble than that, with a ready laugh and a readier dare, equally quick with a kiss or a kunai. It's all wild energy, not restrained elegance. Sleeping with Anko is like surviving an ambush, sometimes literally, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

When she's in the mood it means his wards trip in the middle of the night, and sometimes she dodges the first kunai fast enough and sometimes she's a half second too slow, so there's blood running from her shoulder when she lunges for him in the dark. "Miss me?" she asks, and he tries to pin her because he's still running on instinct, half-awake and primed to fight. Close quarters with Anko means she'll bite, and he usually sleeps bare-chested, so she has more than enough target to choose from. Her sharp little teeth draw blood if she's managed to find a spot where the skin's still smooth and whole. She croons at the taste of blood, and that wakes up Ibiki's brain the rest of the way, so he fists a hand in her short hair and pulls instead of trying to get a good enough grip for a neck snap.

"You never could do things the easy way," he says.

"I like it when you taste like adrenaline," she agrees, her voice breathless, hungry. Her bloodthirstiness is what makes most people wary of _her_ —given who taught her, people see it as a warning sign. But Ibiki heads up T&I he knows evil is a matter of degree, not kind. She's no worse than he is.

And she writhes against him when he grabs hold of that fresh cut on her shoulder, hissing in appreciation of the pain as he squeezes, returning the favor by raking her nails down his back hard enough that he can feel it even though the thick scar tissue of old burns. He groans into the hollow of her throat at the way that stings, the way the pain lingers in the damaged skin. She flexes and squirms under him, maybe trying to get leverage to flip them over, maybe just looking for more friction. She's left her jacket somewhere but she still has her mesh on, the texture rough against his skin as she moves, scraping him sensitive.

Ibiki digs one thumb into a spot just below her collar bone—there's a tenketsu there, and he's no Hyuuga but he can manage a rough jolt of chakra that makes Anko's whole body jerk and snap taut. She recovers fast, like a shinobi ought to, and then she _does_ flip them over, hooking an ankle around his shin as she traps one thigh between hers and grinds down against him hard. Her pelvic bone's going to leave bruises.

He rocks up against her but it's not quite enough—his cock is pressed against her stomach, where the flesh is soft enough to give instead of giving him friction. He growls, grabbing her wrist and dragging it down; the nails of her other hand dig sharp crescents of pain into his side as she presses her palm flat against the shaft of his cock. They rock against each other in time, both of their chakra blazing with intent—not to kill, like this, but the need is just as intense, crackling between them until she throws back her head and snarls, thighs clenching tight around his as her chakra flares bright. He's not far behind, grinding into her hand until need twists into satisfaction, arching his back off the futon as he comes.

Anko rolls off him, and Ibiki grabs her wrist to keep her from leaving. "Stick around," he says. She can't have anything urgent to do in the morning if she was willing to spend her night like this.

Her smile is quick and sharp as her blades in the dark. "Going to make me breakfast if I do?"

"Maybe," he says. He doesn't have anything urgent to do in the morning, either. "Depends how much you impress me by morning."

Anko laughs, twisting closer again. She's always loved a challenge. "You're on."


End file.
